


Chiswick Mercy

by theAlmostPorcupine



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Confusing but that's Doctor Who, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, More Doctors but that would be a spoiler, Multiple Doctors (Doctor Who), Not a Love Story, Time Lord Victorious, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 23:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16464464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAlmostPorcupine/pseuds/theAlmostPorcupine
Summary: Thirteen ceases. Twelve flickers. Eleven blanks. Ten turns…. The Future comes. A Little One cries.





	1. Chapter 1 - In Which Time is Wibbly-Wobbly

**Author's Note:**

> Along with "An Alien on Gallifrey," this fic marks the first time I've cross-posted.
> 
> Also, I'm switching fandoms. Somewhere in both of my Doctor Who stories is one reference each to my new fandom. If anyone can identify the fandom and send me the reference - either here or on ffn - then the first to do so will have an opportunity to request bonus material for any of my Doctor Who fics.

The Doctor ran her hand over a rosy panel. "You've outdone yourself this time. You're brilliant!"

She ran around the circular consoles, taking mental notes of where all the new buttons and levers and thingamabobs were. Her grin spread as she took it all in. "Right then. Let's get a feel for the new layout. Where to go..."

Her hand paused above a panel as she noticed a blinking light. "We're getting a distress signal? We'll go there then, but where and when is there?"

It only took her a few moments to pull up and read the details, eyebrows slowly rising. "It's from Gallifrey. There's someone trapped in the Matrix."

She didn't like the sound of that. Who was calling her? What were their intentions? Could they be trusted to tell the truth? Only one way to find out, she supposed. If some innocent was in trouble, she couldn't leave them anyway. She would just have to be wary.

Buzzing around the controls, she outlined a course to her home planet. "I don't want anyone to know I'm there yet. Do you think you could help me get around the materialization indicators to land us as close as possible?"

But the TARDIS rode like a bucking bull. The Doctor hung on to the console with all her strength. She slipped off the console, dropping against a rounded wall. Struggling upright, she staggered her way back to a pilot's station and shoved some levers into their desired spot. "We can't just turn our back on this! Are you going to help me or not?"

It was with groans and puffs of steam that the TARDIS allowed herself to be navigated through the Vortex. The cloister bell was more a scream when she finally landed.

The Doctor patted her ship. "I'll make this up to you later. Right now, I've got to investigate."

When she stepped out, she found that the TARDIS had been helpful with the landing spot, despite all her protest: she was inside the Matrix itself. She could feel the raw energy of the supercomputer, all the timelines, all the possibilities, all the minds housed inside it. It tingled like an electric bath.

Ahead, she saw a wispy form, shaped vaguely like a Time Lord. Was that...?

Before she could finish her thought, the form touched a red panel on the Matrix. The Doctor got a definite ID on her attacker in the split-second before the Matrix fired on her with a strong white ring. It burned.

* * *

An earlier Doctor was new again. He had a fresh look – a bright colorful coat and curly blond hair. And he saw his companion, Peri, through new eyes.

As she entered his beautiful white console room with its roundels and columns, she presented herself to him with a "Ta-da!"

His amused smirk slowly slid from his face and he drawled, "Yuck!"

Of course, his mind wasn't stable. Not yet. Not so soon after his regeneration. His thoughts drifted as he sauntered around the controls. He wanted a vacation. Or a story. Or a story vacation.

No, he wanted to go to Orion's belt, but he couldn't quite remember the coordinates.

Neither he nor Peri could see the humanoid intruder as it touched the back of the Doctor's head – the Doctor had his back turned, and the rotor blocked Peri's view. Not that there was much of anything to see anyway. It was like a white afterimage on the last moment of its existence. Only a trained eye could have spotted it.

Stories. Stories. Persian stories. Peri!

His thoughts turned dark. All myths had an element of truth. The Persian myth was likely based on an alien, which made his companion an alien spy. He had to confront her.

He played it casual at first, telling her more about the trip he'd intended. He couldn't keep his suspicion off his face for long though. "Peri?"

"Yes?"

Yes, Peri. She was a  _peri_. He watched her face for tells. "How do you come by a name like that?"

Well, she was a good actress, he'd give her that. He couldn't spot any tells, but he  _knew._ He  _knew_. She had to be an alien spy, and so he took her by the neck. She struggled. He steered her against the console and down to the floor.

Only seeing himself in the mirror snapped him out of it. His blue eyes held a manic gleam, almost like one who was possessed.

What had he done? He couldn't even bear to look. Immediately, he released Peri and staggered toward the console for support, covering his eyes with one hand. Peri. Peri.  _Peri._  Peri was no evil alien spy. She was his friend. An innocent young woman.

He knew it then – there was something dangerous about him. There was some darkness that threatened to destroy him and everyone he loved.

Later, he would pass it off as a side-effect of regeneration. To be fair, some of it was – the wandering thoughts – the forgotten coordinates – but attempting to strangle his friend? That wasn't the Doctor at all. But no one could have told him otherwise: his mental assailant had no witnesses.

* * *

Centuries into the Doctor's personal future – or centuries into the Doctor's personal past – Donna Noble set her phone on her nightstand and slipped off the queen mattress. As she often did, she took a seat by the bedroom window and stared out at the night sky as though it held life's answers. It felt as though someone she loved was gone forever. Why? The feeling was worse lately with Shaun off in America for university through the end of the spring term, putting what was left of the lottery money to good use.

She'd have gone with him, but she was worried about her mother, who'd been clingy ever since Gramps' death three years before. Donna visited often, but no matter how her mother insisted, she needed some space. Funny, how she used to predict that Donna would never leave the house.

If Donna felt this bad tomorrow, perhaps she'd take her mother up on that offer for a few nights.

Donna's wistful eyes lifted to the heavens, where the clouds covered anything there might have been for her to see. What was there anyway? Choirs of babies maybe? All waiting to have a proper family? Or maybe a boy dreaming of flying around in a magic blue box.

She paid no mind to the headache that came with that thought. She couldn't do much for it, really, not when she'd developed an allergy to aspirin over the years. So she ignored her head in favor of ongoing problems that were more recent.

Like the one she emailed Shaun about tonight on her phone. She didn't know if he'd be disappointed, but she certainly was: this past month, she'd experienced hot flashes. Menopause. She'd bet on it. Any hopes she had of having children just fell out the window. If her heart was torn in two, she knew what the pieces were: one was her dreams, and one was what she could still hope for – separated from each other. There was a hole there to begin with, one she sometimes imagined was her longing for a child. What else could it be? Sure, there were years of her life that she couldn't remember, but she certainly hadn't lost anyone – well, there was her dad, but he had his own hole.

She shook, tears bursting from her eyes. What had she lost? Her past? Her future? Both, for sure. Oh, how she wished for a child!

It was as she was sinking into her hands that something hot washed through her, but it wasn't her normal heat flash. No, this new thing was accompanied by her gut's burglar alarm.

There couldn't be a burglar. The door was locked, and her house was empty.

Hairs stood on the back of her neck anyway. Muscles tensed involuntarily like coiled springs. Donna looked over her shoulder.

There was a big black flying  _thing_  rushing her.

She could barely scream as she was scorched from head to belly. The critter poofed into smoke less than a second before impact...

Donna would later find herself lying cold on the cream-and-blue rug.

* * *

Yet another Doctor ran across Mars' surface. He had to get back to his TARDIS before the base blew and took him with it.

Small explosions went off behind him, but they weren't the base's final destruction. Still, one knocked him to the dirt, where he could still hear the crew's final moments over the com system. Adelaide…. Everyone….

He was just as oblivious as his younger self when a ghostly hand touched his back. Immediately, he was filled with rage. How could he just lie here and let those people die? Once upon a time, there were people who enforced the laws of time, but they were dead. He was the winner. The laws of time were his, and they would obey him!


	2. Chapter 2 - In Which Donna Gets Candy

Donna slumped back into the waiting room's thinly-padded chair, the smell of antiseptics making her vaguely nauseous. A magazine dropped from her hand onto the shining white tiles.

She had bloody well get some answers today. Something easy, like a side-effect of stress maybe, not some medical drama like you'd see on the telly, the type where they had to keep calling her back again and again as she died of some rare incurable disease. Needing to have tests done at all was bad enough. There was a telly blathering in the room, not playing a medical drama, just the BBC news.

Neither Donna's magazine or the BBC was an adequate distraction for anything. Honestly, the metal-backed chair did better at taking her mind off things than the coverage of some dog that found its way back to its family after thirteen years. She wiggled, but she could not get comfortable. "Why do waiting rooms always make you sit on torture devices?"

There were other patients waiting their turn, but none bothered to respond. Donna wished Shaun had time off from his summer job so he could be there with her, or even that her mum was free that day, but as she put it, the mortgage wasn't going to pay itself. Couldn't she get some support here? It wasn't just the nausea. It was a whole long list of worrisome things: vomiting, sensitivity to smells, that one night when she hallucinated that big flying thing and passed out in the bedroom...

No way that was just menopause.

After what seemed like a week of waiting, Donna's name was finally called. She followed a nurse down a long, white hallway, talking at her. "Did they find anything? Good news? Bad news? Terrible news? I just want to know what's going on already."

The nurse kept looking over some notes on her clipboard. "Doctor Essex will have that information for you."

Donna groaned. "You must know  _something._ No gossip about interesting illnesses? No paperwork for extra tests? No measurements they want you to pay extra attention to with me?"

The nurse ignored Donna as she adjusted a scale, barely speakingc through the rest of her checks. Donna swore she left her alone in a room as soon as she could.

She climbed onto the plastic blue bed. The doctor had better not be long if that daft martian knew what was good for him.

She shook her head, heart sinking into her stomach. What was she doing, thinking of some doctor as a martian? And why did she want to cry with just the word  _doctor?_  Oh, how she hated crying at the drop of a hat lately.

Come to think of it, should it worry her that her headaches were replaced by more severe mood swings? Had they been an early symptom of something nasty?

Several minutes passed until Doctor Essex, a chubby bald man, waddled in. Donna supposed if he were some sort of martian, he'd be a white blob of toddling fat. It almost seemed as if she'd heard of such a creature before. It started with an  _A_  didn't it?

The doctor's voice was much deeper than what Donna imagined for such a creature, but it did match his nearly-door-stooping height. "Mrs. Temple-Noble, we have a good-news, bad-news situation on our hands."

She crossed her arms. "Will there be any more tests?"

He laughed. "No, no. You're fine. We'll just be wanting to keep an eye on you."

Just be wanting to keep an eye on her? Just be wanting to keep an eye on her? Were mood swings something to just be wanting to keep an eye on? Was fainting? Were hallucinations? She snapped as much at the barmy physician.

Doctor Essex crossed his legs. "You're fine. The hallucinations and fainting were an isolated incident, most likely due to a lack of sleep. As for everything else..." he pulled out a pamphlet: Infant and You. "The blood and urine samples both confirmed it: you're about three months pregnant. At your age-"

Why was she paying for such incompetence? Donna scoffed and narrowed her eyes. "That's impossible. My husband's been abroad for seven months. I haven't been to visit, and I haven't been cheating on him."

The doctor nodded, a kind smile on his face. "I'd suggest cutting back on the alcohol if you intend to keep the baby. Strong substances aren't good for fetal development."

How wizard. Of course he couldn't just believe the patient! Donna was getting a second opinion if it meant getting into exactly the sort of medical drama she wanted to avoid. She shoved the pamphlet away and held up a finger. "Look, I'm not pregnant, okay? I haven't been black-out drunk anytime lately. Who do you think I am, the virgin Mary? You're no angel come to tell me I've found favor with God either."

"You can deny it, but the tests don't lie."

Donna left Doctor Essex's office and told the clinic's secretary not to bother booking any new appointments for her on the way out. She'd find another doctor.

She almost understood the cry her heart made on her way out, which said that there was only one doctor she needed.

* * *

Months passed. Shaun took time away from university to be with her as she sought a growing number of second opinions. She kept silent on what their faulty opinion was, not that he'd be unable to observe it for himself when she never entered labor anyway.

She was seeing yet another new doctor today. This new doctor wanted to take a look inside her stomach. At least he wasn't taking any bodily fluids like the rest of them, so she had hope that his method could find something different from any of the previous charlatans'. Something that accounted all her symptoms. Something that explained the false pregnancy results. Something they could treat.

A male nurse by the name of Williams led Donna to a small room with a bed and a TV. The TV wasn't for Donna's entertainment though – its power light was on, but its screen was blank.

Donna made a face. "The doctor's not going to show me my innards, is he?"

"Just trust him." Williams got her lying down, telling her to relax as he retrieved supplies from a cabinet just past a blue piece of furniture that Donna's eyes glazed right over. He smiled as he put down a jar and a metal instrument of some sort. "Doctor Smith will be right with you."

He disappeared back toward the medical cabinet. Donna looked at her swollen stomach instead of watching him leave the room. "At least he's not going to hand me a useless parenting pamphlet."

The moment Doctor Smith walked in, Donna got the feeling he was eccentric enough to  _enjoy_  showing people their innards. His white curls still bounced like a kindergartner, his electric blue eyes brimmed with energy that no one his age had any business having, and to top it off, he carried a bag of candy with him. She was just hoping he wouldn't show her anything too gross as he woke his screen up.

Doctor Smith pulled up Donna's navy blouse and rubbed the gel across her belly. It was chilly, but at least the gel seemed much closer to a normal doctor's visit than did Doctor Smith's words: "This will be one of the strangest things you'll remember seeing, but apparently I have to show you."

Donna took back all hopes that he might actually know better than the other doctors did. He had to be the biggest quack yet if he claimed to have a diagnosis without gathering any more information than what was on her intake form. "Oi! Have you ever been sued for malpractice? I want to see that medical degree of yours, Sunshine!"

Doctor Smith cracked a smile, just for a moment, and placed the metal instrument in the gel. On the screen, there was an image of Donna's womb, and inside, a little head with a chest and four forming limbs. "Say hello to Mystery Baby."

Donna's jaw dropped open. "This sick joke has gone way too far. I need serious medical attention, and you're showing me some other woman's ultrasound?"

Handing Donna the instrument, Doctor Smith asked, "Am I? Why don't you take a look yourself?"

To prove him wrong, Donna placed the end on her belly and moved it in as unpredictable a pattern as she could. The image followed. "But I haven't had sex with anyone but Shaun since we were married."

"And that's why the baby is a mystery."

Donna peered up at Doctor Smith. Did he actually believe her? Perhaps. She couldn't see how, but there was sobriety in his eyes and not a hint of a smile on his lips. "If I'm telling the truth, how could I possibly be pregnant?"

"Oh, lots of ways, but the mystery isn't really that much of a mystery."

Donna gripped the ultrasound's probe harder. "What do you mean?"

Doctor Smith held his hand out for his instrument back. "It's in your file, reported on that night you passed out. What you saw was no hallucination."

Her heart pounded. "But that creature looked like it was from another world."

"Not quite. It wasn't from a world at all." Doctor Smith was reaching for his candy bag. "But it wasn't from Earth if that's what you're asking. That's fine. The child is in fact, still a child. He's probably the only one you can carry too, this late into your life."

Donna stared at her stomach. "I'm carrying a half-alien."

"Actually – oh, you'll find out when you're feeling better about him. Jelly babies?" Doctor Smith offered her the candy bag. "They make a good comfort food."

She swatted the bag away.

"Alright, then. Would you like to take a more careful look?" Doctor Smith was already placing his scope on Donna's stomach and positioning it to show the fetus's two closed eyes and tiny nose. "He will grow into looking, as you'd say, human. Your species and his usually look alike on the outside."

What was this child? Some sort of extraterrestrial shape-shifter? His dad didn't look remotely human. Donna's eyes were glued to the screen. Below the infant's nose, the rest of its face was obscured by a fist that it appeared to be sucking.

At that, her heart melted. Her child was harmless, wasn't it? He. The doctor did say  _he_ , didn't he? Donna rested a hand gently on her gel-covered midriff. "He's mine?"

"Of course. Always. Forever. Even if you get separated, that's how long he will love you. He already does."

Her eyes watered. "Mine," she said. "But what about Shaun? What will he think? What do I tell him? And what about the father? He wants him, doesn't he? Someone must have told you about this kid. That's what you're doing on Earth, isn't it? You're not human either."

"No, I'm not." Doctor Smith – if that was his name – began wiping the gel off of Donna's stomach. "I can't tell you what lies in your future, but I can promise you, whatever happens, your little one will try his best to be worth it."

"He already is!" Donna pulled her shirt down, slowly pushing herself up. "How do I care for him?"

Doctor Smith beamed. "Oh, very well, I should think."

Although Donna couldn't help but smile back, she crossed her arms. "Doctor, how do I care for him?"

Was it just her imagination, or did Doctor Smith's eyes sparkle when she used his title? There was something nagging at the back of her mind like a discarded piece of childhood advice from her mother.

Doctor Smith looked Donna in the eyes. "Remember."

She blinked. "Remember? Remember what?"

Handing her the bag of jelly babies, Doctor Smith shook his head. "I wish I could bring it all back to you now, but too much too soon. You're free to leave." He climbed into a blue telephone box in the corner – how hadn't Donna noticed that earlier? It was a strange thing to have inside a doctor's office wasn't it? - and closed the door.

An image rushed through Donna's mind. She remembered: there was a man once – no, not a man. An alien of some sort. What was he? – there was a spaceman once, a tall skinny spaceman with brown hair, puppy dog eyes, and that blue pinstripe suit he loved. That spaceman had a blue box a lot like this one. What was his name again?

"Doctor!" She called after the so-called Doctor Smith. What else could she call him without knowing his real name? "Doctor!"

With a wheezing groaning sound, the telephone box faded in, out, and ultimately away. Donna was left there, staring at an empty corner. "I have so many questions if I ever see you again."

A nurse, not Williams, stuck her head in. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you can't be in here. This room is closed until the machinery in here is fixed. If you tell me which doctor you're here to see, I can escort you to where you're waiting."

Donna walked toward the door. "I was here to see a Doctor Smith, but I think he already left."

"A Doctor Who?"

Of course the alien didn't really even work here. "As I said, I think he already left." Donna hightailed it out of the hospital, rushing Shaun from the waiting room on her way.

"No good?" he asked as Donna strapped herself into their car.

Her tears started immediately. She blamed hormones, but she was having an alien child. She would do anything for her alien child, but what would she tell Shaun?

Without pulling out of the stall, Shaun put the car back in park. "Donna?"

She didn't know how he'd react to a baby alien, but he'd told stranger tales. He and everyone else who ever spoke of mass-scale extraterrestrial invasions. She could tell him. "The doctor thinks I was attacked by an alien, and it impregnated me. He showed me the baby."

* * *

The Doctor stumbled out of his TARDIS, eyes on his battered converses and the purple dirt under his feet rather than where he was going. He knew where he was anyway: Loncholy, home of the solitary and remorseful.

If he were to look up, he would probably see the narrow winding empty canyon trails that he remembered, maybe a hermit's hut on occasion. He knew he wasn't really alone on this planet, but anyone here would leave him be, and that was exactly what he wanted after Mars.

He barely looked up once in a while to check the neglected wooden sign posts. There was a river here he wanted to visit: the Whidff River, a deep cut of rushing white that glowed at the bottom of the canyon. It was slightly psychic and would show whatever memories its observers dwelt upon. He trod downward, deeper and deeper, fingers resting on the damp almost-metallic rock beside him as he perched one foot in front of the other. Not much further and he'd reach a ledge where he could sit and stare at the water.

He kept what he'd done replaying for hours: the zombies, the explosions, the flying dirt, and most of all the gunfire with which Captain Adelaide Brooke took her own life on Earth.

He'd once again reached the moment he lost his mind when a female voice beside him spoke. "You hate yourself for what you did, don't you?"

The Doctor peeked beside him. He didn't recognize the young woman who joined him: blonde and thin, wearing teal culottes and a light-colored coat. He hated meeting people out of order. "Are you a companion? Go back to your own version of me."

"I'm not a companion." The woman gazed down at the Whidff. "I think you should watch this, Doctor."

He pressed his lips together. "No. No spoilers. The last thing I need is to transgress any more laws of time."

The woman glanced up. "These aren't spoilers. They've already happened for you. Just watch."

The Doctor stared at the side of the blonde's head for a bit. Eventually, his eyes moved to the river.

The scene it was playing was a night in Chiswick, right in front of the Noble-Mott household. Donna stood there in her wedding dress, and he was there, saying something. He stopped with a smile and had the TARDIS manipulate the local part of Earth's atmosphere, falling snowflakes on the both of them.

The projection was silent, its background filled only with the rushing of the Whidff's rapids, but the blonde sitting next to the Doctor spoke: "She didn't want to travel in the TARDIS back then, but she did share her opinion that you need someone to stop you. She wasn't wrong."

He knew that. He wouldn't have turned back to rescue Adelaide and her crew if Donna were still traveling with him, but she couldn't. Not anymore. And after everyone he'd lost, it was too painful to take on another companion.

The Doctor glared at the blonde. "Who are you? Why are you showing me this?  _How_  are you showing me this? That's  _my_  memory."

The blonde held a finger up. "Earth, London, Chiswick – Donna's street, in fact – 24 May, 2018. She won't be there, but you'll find that someone, someone who means the universe to your much-younger self, someone needs help from this-" The blond poked the Doctor's nose, and a temporal shock ran down his spine. It was the shock of a person poking themself at a different point in their timestream. "-version of us."

The Doctor stared at the blonde. "You're me."

"Yes." His future self stood up, smiling. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

He didn't answer that. He knew it was possible, and he didn't have anything against women, but he'd never actually pictured himself as one until now. "A friend needs me? Who?"

"Oh, someone who's more than just a friend, but not like  _that._ Stop moping and go. Chiswick Mercy." The blonde started along the trail, along which the Doctor could make out a TARDIS parked, standing horizontally on the canyon wall. The rapids must have covered the brakes – if his future self still left them on.

The future Doctor paused just before she reached the narrowest part of the trail. "You know, I really liked that face."

Now smiling, the Doctor stood up. "Give my love to the days to come!"

"And to all the days past!"

The Doctor stepped along after his future self until she dropped into her TARDIS. He stopped to watch it disappear, its familiar vworp finally joining the canyon's echoes, as though his future self had just put on the brakes. He was glad he seemed happy as her.

For now, there was someone who needed him. He retraced the trail with a spring in his step, sprinting when he got the chance. Running straight to his TARDIS console, he set the coordinates for Earth, London, Chiswick, 24 May, 2018. "Allonsy!" He took off.


	3. Chapter 3 - In Which the Doctor's in the Morgue

He went to Chiswick, just as his future self asked him to. His TARDIS landed on a warm partly-cloudy spring day. About 11 AM, judging by the sun. The street was empty except for an older woman with silver hair tucked under a yellow sunhat, crouched down at a flowerbed that lined her yard, a pile of weeds beside her.

She was staring at him and the TARDIS. She'd seen.

He smiled. "Hello."

The old lady armed herself with a trowel. "What are you?"

No hiding it. "Alien. Friendly alien." He knelt across the flowerbed and offered his right hand. "My name's the Doctor. Yours?"

She eyed his hand. "What are you doing on Earth?"

At least she asked questions.

"I got a tip-off that something's wrong here, so I came to investigate. I'm trying to help."

The woman raised her brows. "So you're like the galactic police?"

He lowered his hand slightly. "No. More of a freelancer actually, but the Shadow Proclamation – the intergalactic version of the UN, that is – doesn't have jurisdiction here. If it helps, I have worked with human governments in the past."

"Do you have an ID?"

"Yeah." He reached for his psychic paper. "You won't tell anyone, will you? I'm supposed to be hush-hush, but my ship there-" he nodded to the TARDIS, "-must be malfunctioning. She's supposed to land where no one will notice. I'm going to have to look her over later."

He would. Why land so that some old woman immediately knows he's an alien?

The woman looked at the psychic paper. " _Jon Smith_? You honestly think the name  _Jon Smith_  will help you blend in?"

He pouted. "Why does everyone have a hard time believing it? It's a good name."

"It's too common." With the Doctor's hand down, the old woman initiated the handshake. "Jane Walker. I hope you really do come in peace."

He nodded. "Yeah, as I said, I got a tip-off. I'm trying to help. Have you seen anything odd around here?"

"No, nothing  _alien_  odd." The woman, Jane Walker, pulled a phone from her pockets and pressed her thumb against her Google Maps app. "Perhaps you're lost?"

"No, I'm in the right place. I know this street pretty well, actually. I used to have a friend who…." A lump formed in his throat. He still wasn't over losing his best friend, and having to talk about her here was just too much. He swallowed. "I used to come here often. I wouldn't have been surprised if you recognized me."

"I just moved in last year. I'm sorry, Doctor, but you're the first alien I've seen any sign of."

She moved in last year. Yes, that explained it. From the Nobles' perspective, it was years since they saw him.

Donna's family. If there was truly no chance of running into Donna, perhaps he could go ask Wilf what was going on.

He was about to straighten up and stroll over to that heart-breakingly familiar house when Jane opened her mouth. "Actually…."

"Yes?" Did she know something after all?

"I don't know if it's what you're looking for or not, but there's a woman on this street. She's having a baby. Her husband left her because it's not his – he said she was making up stories to hide her infidelity, but closed up every time someone asked about the father."

He didn't know what he was looking for, but it was something. He met Jane's gaze. "A woman?"

"Her name is Donna Noble."

His hearts stopped. Donna? Did he hear that right? Sure, she lived here, but she wasn't who his future self sent him for, was she? She was too recent for who she hinted at. "Donna Noble?" His voice came out a bit choked.

His hands started trembling. If her child's father was an alien, that could trigger her memories. He needed to check up on her. That was two friends on the line now.

"Yeah." Jane's eyes rested on his face. "Is she the friend you mentioned?"

He swallowed. " _Don't_  mention aliens to her. Not even me." He hurried to his feet. "If her child is half-alien, that could be medically dangerous either one of them. Where is she?"

"She was in labor this morning. There was a big hullabaloo – Donna was screaming that she wanted to have a home birth, but her mother wouldn't hear of it. She took her to the hospital."

Oh no. Oh no no no  _no._ Did Donna know? Is that why she wanted a home birth?

His eyes were wide. His breathing was shallow. He was distracted with trying to come up with a way to ascertain Donna's safety without depriving her innocent child of its mother. That is, until Jane asked, "Will everything be alright?"

"A hospital?" he whispered. Wait.  _Chiswick Mercy_ , his future self said. Was there a Chiswick Mercy Hospital? Could his future self have sent him for Donna after all? All she had to do was tell him and he'd have gone. He bent over to look at Jane's phone screen. "Is there a hospital called Chiswick Mercy around here?"

Jane typed the name into the search. Just a few blocks away, a location marker popped up.

"That's it!" The Doctor dashed back to his TARDIS, but a mental prodding stopped him from leaving right away. He turned. "Thank you. Could I ask one more favor?"

"What is it?"

"Donna." He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm going to help her out as much as I can, but she could die if she remembers about aliens. I can't be here for her anymore. I just want someone to be nice to her."

"I'll help out how I can."

He grinned. "Thank you. This is why I love humans – you lot are brilliant, you are."

Bounding into his TARDIS, he piloted it to Chiswick Mercy. He landed outside the front doors moments later. The hospital towered above him like a fortress.

* * *

"Push."

"AAARGH!" With one last agonizing effort, her baby was out, wailing at the top of his lungs. Donna made no effort to hide the tears flooding her face. "Give him to me."

Sylvia, having been the one to comfort her through the ordeal, patted her hand. "Soon. They're getting him cleaned up and checking up on him. See, the hospital wasn't so bad, was it? I can't understand what was going through your head when you said you didn't want to come."

Donna looked at her mother, glad she was crying now. Her tears would affect her, and she really needed the help with the trouble her mother placed them into. "He can't be here. Please, Mum. He's your only grandchild and they'll kill him."

"Why would they do that?" Sylvia ran her hand across Donna's sweaty forehead. "Are you alright? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"There's something you haven't been telling me," Donna hissed back. "I know you know about him. I used to have this wonderful friend called the Doctor." When Sylvia's eyes widened, Donna knew she played her cards right. She continued. "Then I forgot him. Mum, why did I stop traveling with him? Why did you and Gramps hide him from me? And how did you expect me to be honest with you about anyone like him when I remembered?"

"You can't remember! He said-"

The argument was interrupted only by a young black-haired nurse asking for the name for the birth certificate, to which Donna supplied  _Jon_ _athon_ _Wilfred Noble._

Silent tension shoved itself between mother and daughter as long as it could. As soon as the nurse left to make the hospital's copy of the birth certificate, Sylvia whispered, "He brought you home one day. He said there'd been an accident and he had to wipe your memory. He said you'd die if you ever remembered him."

This was the Doctor's fault then. "Did he? Well, I'm clearly a corpse. I don't remember everything, but I remember him." Donna glared at the white hospital blanket covering her. "Mum, I need you to get Jon. Stop the doctors from examining him, or call a lawyer or something."

Sylvia swallowed. She asked, voice trembling, "Jon's part alien, isn't he?"

"Yeah." Donna looked over to where a nurse was putting a diaper on her cleaned-off baby. "He can't be here."

The nurse strolled over to the doctor, who was waiting with a stethoscope.

"Oi!" Donna shouted at them. "Are you deaf? I said  _give him to me._ "

The doctor placed the stethoscope on Jon's chest. Instead of fussing, Jon examined it from the metal bit on his chest, along the cord, and up to the doctor's ears.

"Can't you see he's fine?" Sylvia snapped. "Give him to my daughter."

The doctor frowned at them. "The baby is not fine. His vitals are all wrong. He needs to go to intensive care."

Jon yanked one of the ear pieces from the doctor's ear, cooing.

Sylvia took a step toward the two of them. "He's not acting sick. Just let my daughter have him."

"I can't. I'm too concerned about this kid's health."

Donna filled her lungs to maximize her volume. "I'm his mother, and I say give him to me!" When Jon started fussing, she quickly apologized to the infant. "Look, I've read all the parenting books I could get. I know how important it is to hold your baby after he's first born. I don't want to deprive him and cripple his emotional development."

Sighing, the doctor shook his head. "His vitals are strange enough that not taking care of this now would be child neglect. We'll keep you informed."

He left from a storm of scolding from both women, but nothing either Noble could do could prevent the doctor from taking Jon from them. The moment he was through the door with the infant, Donna exchanged a look with her mother. "I don't suppose you know how to contact him?"

"Don't be silly. You're the one who befriended him."

Donna stared out into the gleaming white hallway through which the doctor had taken Jon, wondering if she would ever see her son again. "I don't. I know a woman named Martha Jones does. I'm not sure how to contact her either. The most I remember about her is that she works for a place called UNIT. I need you to see what help you can get."

* * *

The Doctor grumbled about wardrobe-ruining Hoodels as he finished replacing his hot-pink-splattered clothes with a clean white bow tie. It was a shame to lose his favorite red neckwear. "So much for taking River there tonight. How am I supposed to enjoy a fun-filled evening with my wife if the natives' only idea of fun is to make visitors to their planet look unmanly?"

Not wanting to risk another bow tie by returning in person, the Doctor picked up the TARDIS phone to cancel his restaurant reservation. With that done, he stomped around the console. "Now what do I do? I mean, I could take River to the first ever anti-grav golf course, but I want to test this bow tie for a few hours first to make sure it's the coolest."

He stopped and ran through random ideas from the TARDIS first, pausing on one in particular. "Records in London? Yes, I suppose there are a lot of those. I'll have to wipe them, but just wiping them is boring. Let's go at Christmas. There always used to be alien invasions at Christmas. Maybe I'll get lucky."

Now laughing to himself, he raced around to fly to his destination. He grinned when the TARDIS signaled their arrival. "Now to stop an invasion and wipe some records. What do you think, Old Girl? Will there be people trying to kill me?"

The TARDIS hummed.

"I guess I'll have to see for myself then." The Doctor pushed the door open into bright sunlight. Warm spring air drifted inside. "This looks nothing like Christmas."

"What?" a voice squeaked.

The Doctor looked over. There stood himself, a matter of paces away from his own TARDIS. His younger self, the matchstick version of him to be exact, with the wild hair and the pinstripes that made him seem even taller and slimmer than he really was. "What are you doing here? I don't remember this."

His younger self blinked. "What? What am  _I_ doing here? What are you doing here? And how? How do you exist? I only have one regeneration left, and I've met her."

The Doctor leaned against his TARDIS. "Her? As in some girl? We could have picked up another regeneration somewhere… somehow… but are you sure she was us? It's not the first time you made this mistake. Or have you done that yet?"

"Jackson Lake." His younger self started to circle his present incarnation's TARDIS and peering at it as though it could be a trick. "I suppose we'll have to pick up another regeneration, because I did not make a mistake this time – she has our memories, our TARDIS, and she sent me to help Donna. Don't you remember? You can't be here now unless future us sent you too. But you have no clue who she is, so she didn't. And you forgot."

The Doctor bristled. "I forgot? If I don't remember, you're the one who forgets, sometime between you and me."

The brown eyes of his past glared at him across the pavement. "You can't be here. Whatever you were doing, come back some other time."

He knew the laws of time of course. He straightened his bow tie. "Fine. But you don't do anything stupid here. Make absolutely sure that nothing happens to Donna."

"That's my intention, Chinny."

"Fine." The Doctor rested his hand on his TARDIS door. He threw a smile at his past self, which his past self returned. "Good to see you, Doctor."

"And you."

The Doctor entered his TARDIS and reset the time coordinates for Christmas in a few years' time – oh, he was a few years off to begin with. As fun as it was to run into himself, he still had a bow tie to break in and some records to erase.

When he rematerialized, his past self's TARDIS was still in sight. He ran back in to check the time coordinates.

He'd returned thirty seconds after he left. No matter what he did, he could not get his ship to take him away from that point in space and time. Finally, he shook his head. "He must forget because of me. I'll see what needs doing."

Without any real effort at all on his part, the Doctor slipped into the hospital and found an empty lift. He kept his eyes peeled for his younger self within the trickling traffic, but before he could find him, he encountered a black-haired nurse pacing behind a glossy counter top and cursing to herself.

He stopped. "Are you alright?"

"Don't use this hospital. It's horrible." The nurse rubbed at her eyes. "Sorry, I don't think I could tell anyone about it without making things worse. I don't think they've done anything  _illegal_."

The psychic paper was in the Doctor's hand before the nurse could say  _celery_. Why she'd want to say  _celery_  then, he wouldn't know, but it was in his hand in less than the amount of time it would have taken her to say it. As her eyes moved along to read his psychic projection, the nurse visibly relaxed. "Thank goodness. Maybe you can help, Doctor Smith. It's one of the infants. He had some strange vitals, so Doctor Hooper took him to intensive care. They did a few tests and just handed him over to an outside agency – specialists, but no one knows what they actually do."

A sick feeling stirred in the Doctor's gut. A child? No. There was no way he was leaving a child to meet a horrible fate. "Let's get him back to his family. Show me the way, will you, Miss…?"

"Stonebridge. Mary Stonebridge. It's right this way."

* * *

Two blue eyes opened. Above them was the latest version of the TARDIS' console room ceiling.

Hearts racing, the Doctor sat up. She checked herself for injuries. Nothing. No sign of being hit with energy from the Matrix. "I'm alright?" Her lips turned upward. "Lucky!"

She picked herself up the floor and raced around the console, looking for anything damaged there. "Of course I'm  _alive_. The one who shot me – that was  _me_. Future me, that is. Evil me. The Valeyard. He needs me alive so I can regenerate into him."

Regenerate…. Thought occurring to her, she checked her reflection on the gleaming metal back of a screen. A beautiful blonde-haired blue-eyed woman stared back. She was still her, so then what did the Valeyard do? She checked herself once over again. Nothing.

She leaned one hand on the TARDIS, free hand tugging at her hair. "Think! If I do turn evil, why shoot my past self without making her regenerate?" Finally, her eyes snapped toward the TARDIS door. "There may still be a clue in the Matrix. I'm heading back out to look. Thanks for picking me up, Old Girl."

But by the time she got to the door, the handle was missing. The police box's wood was fused into the metal walls of her ship. Rolling her eyes, she reached in her coat pocket for her sonic screwdriver. Even that was rubbish.

Perhaps this was the reason the TARDIS never programmed her screwdrivers to do wood? Because the she didn't approve of the Doctor being able to use it on her exterior?

Well, the Doctor didn't approve of the TARDIS keeping her captive. She banged on the inside of the door. "Let me  _out!"_

The TARDIS made a strange noise halfway between a buzz and a chime.

The Doctor slammed her palm to the wood. "I just shot myself and I want to know why. Now  _let me OUT!"_

No amount of shouting or pleading or kicking made any difference to her beloved blue box. Finally, the Doctor doubled back inside, sighing in irritation. "What's gotten into you?" She examined her equipment closer, until she found something very strange on the temporal flow meter. Her jaw dropped. "Are you serious? You're sustaining a paradox right now? Here, in this room?"

She placed a trembling hand against the screen. "You mean me of course. Have I … died?"

Her eyes widened. She knew exactly what the Valeyard did to her now. She was 99% certain of it. "He erased me. He erased this version of me. I never regenerated into a woman, yet here I am. I won't last long if I leave the TARDIS."

Troubled, the Doctor closed her eyes and started reviewing her memories. Her sixth self was already altered, but her seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth, and even her previous self, they were all there. It was just her who was gone. How did attempting to strangle Peri then lead to her much-later self regenerating into the Valeyard? Nothing else was altered. If she wanted to exist again, she needed to travel along her own timeline in the TARDIS. What a risky endeavor, and yet there was no other choice.

No, if she tried just a little harder, mixed some telepathy in her efforts, perhaps she could find something here.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

That was a heartbeat. Just a single heartbeat. Not a double one.

Hers. His. The Doctor's. The duplicate Doctor's from the Crucible. There was still nothing different about that memory either.

She didn't hear it before it happened, not like Donna. She knew it would catch up to her eventually, she being on the other side of the Doppler Shift, so to speak, but now? She was busy! She was trying to think.

This was affecting her present, her future, and her past! She didn't need her other selves distracting her.

Her other selves…. Her breath caught in her throat. "It's not that there was only one change. It's just that I'm not well-connected to the resulting timeline."

She stuck her hands in her pockets, thinking. "The Valeyard was first around when the Time Lords pulled him out of the Matrix to put my sixth self on trial. As his future self, the first version he could replace is the seventh. It makes sense that he started planting the seeds of himself in him. As to where he manifests, he was supposedly sometime between my tenth and final-" Final. Was that her? She hoped not. Not when everything was new again. There was so much more she could see and do. "-self."

She pulled fists from her jackets to place them on the controls instead. "Seeds. Versions that have been replaced. I've got to go check on my past selves." The Doctor made her fingers relax as she reached toward the boring-ers. "You've really saved me this time, but it's far from over. Let's go."

With the TARDIS set for stealth – brakes off and turned invisible – they hopped through time and space. The Doctor could only observe as she revisited the most vulnerable points of her existence.

Inside a spacious console room, her eighth self listened to a female voice – a recording left by one Lucie Miller, killed while going against the Daleks. The Doctor knew her previous self was so tempted right now – so tempted to break the Laws of Time to save their friend. Loss. Desperation. Hopelessness. But no sign of the Valeyard. The Doctor had to already possess some darkness on their own for the Valeyard to ever have potential.

The heartbeat in her head pounded harder, as though to fore-warn her of an awful danger, echo though it was.

She landed inside a barn next – a barn devoid of animals, filled instead with a warm dirt floor and memories of childhood. Her younger self was there as an old man, searching a metal-covered box for a big red button to destroy Daleks and Time Lords both in a single moment. Guilt. Torment. She felt them for the longest time, believing that she destroyed her own planet and billions of children with it. It was the time her best intentions could pave the path to hell. Such a pivotal moment, and the Valeyard stayed far from it.

The heartbeat pounded yet harder.

On only the next trip, she encountered a horror on Gallifrey. It was her immediate predecessor here – the one with the thick white eyebrows. Here, that same loss and desperation felt by her eighth self festered into selfish bitterness in action. The younger Doctor shot the War General close-range, square in the chest of his red armor, grabbed Clara's hand, and ran away. The moment was an excellent candidate for the Valeyard to target, but it wasn't where he struck. Even as the Doctor watched, her previous self flickered as he ran through the hallways. Wherever the Valeyard was, it was earlier than this.

The Doctor ran for the door to invite Eyebrows aboard before it was too late for him, but the damage was done: that Doctor was gone. She swallowed, closing her ship's door with a shaking hand. "We've got to keep going. You choose this time. I can't."

BA-DUM! BAD-DUM! The heartbeat was so loud! Could the TARDIS hear it too?

The Doctor returned to the console and pulled a single green lever. In just a few seconds, the cloister bell sounded and she looked at the screen to see where they were.

They were in a morgue. A morgue she doubted she noticed much of at the time, as out of it as she was when she woke up, but a morgue she recognized nonetheless. The cold metal table with her dead sheet-clad seventh body was a giveaway.

Her younger self wasn't alone in the morgue: he was only an outline, but the Valeyard was in there with him, a hand on his chest.

The Doctor ran for the doors again. This time, they opened. She charged the Valeyard, but he dissipated into less than smoke.

She could still feel herself slipping. It was like the molecules in her body weren't convinced they were supposed to be there. They pulled at their bonds like dogs on a leash. She had to get back to the TARDIS.

But if the Valeyard already succeeded with her younger self, there was no point. She had to check and reverse it if necessary.

She put her hand to the pale chest beside her. Finally, the heartbeat in her head slowed.

The heartbeats under her hand weren't present at all. Shouldn't they be starting up by now? Frowning, she moved her fingers to her seventh self's temples.

This was very, very not good. No, he wasn't going to regenerate into the Valeyard, but at this rate, he wasn't going to regenerate at all. Her evil future self may have just killed them for being unable to finish.

"I'm going to have to help you out. Jump-start your regeneration. Mind you, I still have temporal backlash from my second regeneration into our pinstripe-loving form. You're going to wake up very confused, even thinking that you're the version that's half-human." She put her hands back on his chest, one on each side, and let the golden glow of regeneration flow out through her hands and into her younger self. The energy entered his body with a flash that puttered out.

She couldn't see it now, but there was a pulse under her fingers again – it took. Her younger self just needed a bit of time. She herself didn't have the time to stick around out here, outside her TARDIS. She ran back in and snapped her fingers to close the door behind her in a hurry.

Just for a moment, anyone looking could have seen right through her.


	4. Chapter 4 - In Which Donna Reads a Lanyard

Donna heard footsteps. Her mother was returning to her hospital room, lips in a strained smile. "I contacted UNIT. The Doctor won't answer the phone for them, but they themselves are coming to help. That's something. Are they any good?"

Her heart fell. "Yeah. They're okay. They should be enough to get Jon back, being government and all."

Sylvia peered at her. "What are you trying to hide now, Little Miss?"

"Nothing." Only her disappointment, but it was too late for that now. "It's just, I need to see him again. Make sure he's alright. That and… I don't know much about Jon's father. I don't know what species he is or how to take care of a half-alien baby. I might need someone more expert than UNIT."

"You mean the Doctor's not the father?" Her mother raised an eyebrow.

"No, Mum. We weren't like that. Besides, it's been years."

Sylvia nodded. "There's just no being sure with aliens. I mean, your pregnancy was hardly only nine months with what we knew, was it?" She sighed. "I almost wish he was the father."

Donna made a face. "No. Just yuck. I know what you mean though."

Her mother came and patted her arm. "We'll get Jon back. Then we are never coming back to this hospital!"

"Yeah." Donna made an effort to smile. "So when is UNIT coming?"

"They're on their way. I said I'd wait for them outside. Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah."

If she could get Jon back, she would be.

Her mother left the room, leaving Donna to rest after her delivery. She would see her son again, wouldn't she?

Only a few minutes later, Donna heard footsteps in the hallway again. These ones were slower and heavier than her mother's.

A sturdily-built man entered the room with a voice recorder and a clipboard. He wore a white lab coat over a black sweater and a lanyard around his neck. "Donna Noble?"

"Yeah?" Donna lifted her head to get a better look at the man. "How's Jon?"

She studied the name badge: Dr. Pierre Grover, Torchwood Outreach. Torchwood? Why did that name sound familiar?

Dr. Grover noticed where she was staring. "So you've heard of us. That was a risky move, having your son at a public hospital like that. The doctors here could have killed him by mistake, you know. They don't know how human medicine affects extraterrestrial species – or an extraterrestrial-mixed individual for that matter."

"I wanted to have him at home, but Mum wouldn't hear of it. She didn't know." Donna closed her eyes. Torchwood, Torchwood….

_The Doctor studied the giant hole that seemed to sink down forever. "...Drilled by laser. Very Torchwood…."_

That Torchwood? Donna's eyes shot open. She crossed her arms. "I don't have to answer to you. You lot nearly got me eaten by a bunch of giant spiders once!"

It was coming back now – she'd researched them while looking for the Doctor – Britain's extraterrestrial agency.

Dr. Grover scowled, checking something on his clipboard. "Oh, of course. You used to work at H. C. Clements, didn't you?"

Donna bit her tongue and glared at him.

"You found the second basement, so what? We have nothing to do with it if you broke in."

"I only broke in because I was poisoned by that stuff YOU manufactured under there. If I hadn't, I would have been summoned by that empress anyhow. If the Doctor hadn't rescued me, I'd be DEAD!"

Dr. Grover blinked a few times. "We wondered what happened to those Huon particles. You say  _the_   _Doctor_  rescued you?"

"Well, you didn't do a blinkin' thing, did you?" She challenged him to look away.

"We did!" Dr. Grover threw his hand down for emphasis. "We didn't know anyone was being poisoned, but the ones who shot down the ship attacking London that day? That was us! That's what we do: we study aliens, and then we save the world from them. The Doctor? The Doctor was declared an enemy of the British people over a century ago. British citizens disappearing over the decades? The rift through Cardiff that brings in dangerous aliens and artifacts? Even Harriet Jones' sudden health problems! That was him! Why would he  _save_  you?"

Donna didn't know about Torchwood, but she thought Dr. Grover genuinely didn't know. She could see how the Doctor could be mistaken for the villain – or actually go too far, come to think of it – but she  _knew_  his heart was in the right place. "Because saving people is what he does. Didn't you know? I traveled with him. I saw what happened with ATMOS. He saved the human race from being poisoned by our own atmosphere."

Dr. Grover stared at her. "Right," he drawled. "About the child-"

"Where is he?"

"He's safe. He's being checked up on by doctors who know a little more about extraterrestrials than the norm. We can't have him sick." He leaned forward. "Of course, it would help if knew the father's species. Is Jon the Doctor's child?"

"No." Donna let her eyes water for Dr. Grover as she asked her next question. "When do I get to see my son?"

He shifted in his seat. Good. She needed him to squirm. "We're not sure he's safe yet. What can you tell us about his father?"

"I don't know much. There was this great big flying thing that rushed straight at me and I passed out. There was this alien doctor who had to come convince me I was pregnant. He told me the sex and assured me that my son would look human. He didn't stick around or leave any way for me to contact him with questions." She let her tears fall. "Can't I at least hold my baby?"

Dr. Grover shifted some more. "I- I'll see what I can do. We are a  _humane_  organization. Even the aliens we capture, we treat very well."

"Capture?" Donna tried to push herself up. "What exactly are you planning to do with my son?"

Ouch. Bad idea. Everything hurt.

Dr. Grover was at her side, helping her back down. "You need rest!"

"I need to know what's going to happen to my baby!"

He held his palms out placatingly. "I know I said  _capture_ , but these aren't the usual circumstances. Jon isn't exactly trying to invade the planet or wipe out life on Earth, is he? The point is we're not going to vivisect him or anything. You shouldn't worry."

She fixed him a hard look. "So when will I get to see him?"

He gulped, inching away. "Well, I'll see what I can do, but I'm sure they'll want to make sure he's not toxic to humans first or vice versa or-"

"If we were toxic to each other, wouldn't one of us have died before I gave birth?" Donna rolled her eyes at his idiocy. "Really.  _When will I get to see him?_ "

"I don't know. I'll try. I swear I'll try!" He picked his clipboard up off the nurse's station. "But really, the more information we have, the smoother this will be. Did Jon's father attack you?"

"Yeah," she mumbled.

He circled something on his clipboard. "Do you think others like him pose a danger to women?"

"It's possible, I suppose, but I'm sure they're not all like that."

It was obvious that Dr. Grover was trying to smile, but his lip kept twitching. "I'm sure Jon won't be. I'm confident that he'll be raised better than that."

She snorted. "Did you think I'd raise my child to be like his father?"

Dr. Grover circled something else on his clipboard in lieu of a reply. "If we sent someone with pictures of aliens, could you help us identify the species of your attacker?"

No, she wasn't answering any more questions until she got answers herself. "Tell me how long until I can see my child,  _dumbo._  How long until I can take him home? Will you be keeping me updated?"

Dr. Grover backed toward the door, clutching his clipboard. "I've already answered those questions to the best of my ability."

"Not all of them!"

His legs picked up the pace. "I didn't sign up to take infants away from their mothers!"

He was out in the hall before Donna could shout anything else at him. She shouted threats and insults after him anyway. Oh, this was going to be harder now that Torchwood was involved. UNIT better be able to handle this. "-and I'll see you in the highest courts! And with all that publicity-"

Her shouting drew someone else to her room. Someone tall and familiar, wearing a lab coat and a stethoscope over his usual pinstriped suit. "What's the problem, Miss?"

He was here. He was actually here! She stopped mid-sentence. "Doctor!"

Fear flashed through the Time Lord's eyes. He fixed a smile on his face. "Yes, that's right. Dr. Jon Smith, in fact. How can I help you?"

"Well, for one thing, you can drop the act: I know exactly who you are, Spaceman!" She smirked a bit at the way his face paled. "For another, you can get over here so I can slap you. I  _told_  you not to wipe my memories!"

He rushed forward. "Donna, you  _can't_  remember! You'll burn! Do you really think I can stand back and just watch that happen to you of all people?"

She slapped his hand away from her. "Bleep me if you have to, but you are not coming near my head again. I'm fine."

" _Fine? Fine?_  You absorbed 900 plus years of Time Lord memories and consciousness and you're  _fine?_ "

She glared at him.

"Fine." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver. He aimed it carefully around her head, with a  _bleep, bleep, bleep_  as it went. Slowly, his jaw dropped, his eyes lit up, and he broke out in a grin. "You are! You're fine. Oh, this is brilliant!"

He pocketed his screwdriver and pulled a seat up to Donna's bedside. "How can you remember?"

"Never mind that now. Torchwood has my baby."

His face went serious. "Torchwood? This whole thing is about Torchwood?"

"Because he's part alien."

Then, just as Donna swore to herself she'd do if the Doctor ever turned up, she told her best friend everything, never mind that she was too choked up to speak properly by the end. He sat by her, listening, patting her head.

When she was finished, there was a steely glint in the Doctor's eyes that she didn't like. His nostrils flared. "We'll get them. They won't get away with this."

She grabbed his hand. "No. I just want Jon back."

He turned his eyes toward her. She shivered. His brows were low and his teeth bared. A low growl was coming from his throat. "I promise I'll get Jon back too, but Torchwood is long overdue to be shut down. Did you think I could let something like them exist forever? They end today. All of Torchwood ends today."

This was not the alien she remembered. He had been, she could tell, but when had he ever been this vengeful? "You're scaring me." She tugged his hand toward her, afraid to let him go.

Slowly, his eyes softened. "I'm sorry. I've been in a bit of a rough time lately. Sometimes, just yesterday in fact…." His eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm going too far again. I don't think I like who I'm becoming."

* * *

The Doctor plopped down on her TARDIS floor for a moment, too drained to take a seat right away after the dash to get in from the morgue. She closed her eyes.

She only rested a moment; she didn't dare rest longer. Staggering to her feet, she set her sight on the same screen she'd been using. Any moment of weakness – any regeneration or any giving into their dark side, that the Valeyard could use.

The Doctor checked in with her sixth and seventh selves. She'd seen her eighth and ninth already, but she would go back if her tenth was disappearing.

Her TARDIS landed in a small room in which her big-eared tenth self was tied up, shouting at two human guards through the closing doors about how they had to destroy it – a Dalek. She remembered. This place, it was the first time she realized that any of the Daleks had survived the Time War.

The screen showed the Valeyard behind her past self, more than an outline now. He looked more like a faded hologram. There was no way she was going to shove him away and survive, but this Doctor was conscious.

If she stood at the doorway, she'd be alright. She hoped.

The Doctor reached for the invisibility switch and turned it off. She may as well clue her past self in that something was up before she fought her way over to the door.

It took nearly a minute for her to reach the frame. Weakly, she raised one hand and snapped her fingers. Her fingers were translucent. She stared at them instead of looking out at her younger self. She was running out of time, wasn't she?

"Are you me?" called her younger self. "You look like a ghost."

She looked up. The Valeyard was right behind her younger self, reaching his fingers toward his cheek. "Mercy! You've got to think about mercy, Doctor! No matter how dangerous they are, you cannot  _torture_  the Daleks. Think of something merciful, or kind, or compassionate."

He nodded, swallowing. "Rose." He said firmly. "Rose is all those things. We were once too. Or I 'ope we were."

The Valeyard pressed his fingers toward Big Ears, his face screwed in concentration, but his fingers were frozen an inch from their younger self's cheek. Big Ears' eyes drifted toward the fingers. "Wha's that?"

"The Valeyard." The Doctor's hand regained some solidity. She wrapped it around the door frame. "He wants you to regenerate into him. He's already erased my regeneration – the TARDIS is the only thing sustaining my paradox."

Big Ears' eyes widened. "No. I don't want to become the Valeyard."

"Then let Rose help you." The Doctor straightened up. "She can help us heal from the Time War."

Big Ears nodded, clenching his teeth. "I won't turn into that if I can help it. I just got our name back and our promise – never cruel or cowardly. I forgot for a moment today, but I meant to stick by that promise. Won't happen again. I'll deal with that Dalek as quickly and painlessly as possible. No more torture."

The Valeyard faded away, and Big Ear's eyes moved back across his face. "Is he gone?"

"Yeah. I should get going before he finds another opportunity to corrupt one of our sel-" The Doctor spaced out for a moment. When she returned, Big Ears was staring at her. "What?"

"You're not being erased – you're being rewritten! Just now, you were the Valeyard."

Pulling at her hair, the Doctor gazed at her younger self, wide-eyed. "He must have found somewhere to succeed. What now?"

"We keep breaking the first law of time. We inoculate our earlier selves and keep the inoculations current for the ones between me and you. Let me out and I can help."

The Doctor reached into her jacket to pull out her sonic screwdriver, but she blacked out again. When she came to, her hands were on her younger self's temples, and he was momentarily out. She checked for damage.

He wasn't corrupted. That was a relief. But the last few minutes were completely gone – not suppressed – gone from his memory.

She blacked out again. The next time she came to, the TARDIS was in flight, and its coordinates were locked.

* * *

The Doctor followed Mary toward the Infant Intensive Care Unit, his sonic in easy reach in his tweed jacket. She led them at a brisk pace. "There are Torchwood Outreach Agents here regularly. They could already have him."

"Why aren't we running then?"

"We don't want to draw attention to ourselves, do we? Besides, we're nearly there. We just take the lift and enter the first set of doors."

They entered the elevator and Mary pressed the button for the third floor. She took a quavering breath as the doors closed. "It's only my second month on the job. I didn't expect my nursing career to be so short. What am I going to do when this is all over?"

If the Doctor was reading the situation correctly, the hospital was a cover for Torchwood anyway. Since when did they have Outreach Agents? Perhaps it would be for the best if Mary no longer worked there. Still, he ought to do something for her if he got the chance. Perhaps…. How was she with aliens?

He held his tongue as they left the lift and Mary looked up the baby's room on the computer at the nurse's station. She looked back at him with wide eyes. "He never made it to the IICU."

Cracking his joints, the Doctor stepped forward to join her at the computer. "That's alright. Since we're dealing with Torchwood, I expected them to take him back to their headquarters straightaway. If we can track Torchwood down, we can go rescue the child." He placed his fingers on the keyboard and started hacking the system with inhuman speed.

Within seconds, an electrical schematic for the entire hospital was displayed. The hospital plans included an office for Torchwood, and there was an unusually high amount of power being routed toward one of its walls. "A transmat! Whatever's on the other side, that's where they've taken him."


	5. Chapter 5 - In Which People Fax Themselves

Mary stared at him. "A what?"

He backtracked toward the lift, nodding at her to follow. "A transmat. We're headed for the seventh floor."

She climbed on after him. "What's a transmat? And how could they have taken the baby anywhere from the seventh floor? That's right in the middle of the hospital. Even if they wanted a heli, they would have had to go all the way to the roof."

Ah, yes. Time to start observing how she was with aliens. He had to explain anyways. "Well, do you know what a teleport is? Think Star Trek or something."

"Teleports are science fiction." She crossed her arms. "I need a straight answer here."

"Ah, well, Star Trek teleports are a bad comparison anyway. Forget I said that. A transmat works nothing like that." The Doctor thought quickly, eyes scanning the upper edge of the lift. "I know. Think of a 3D printer."

"Okay?"

He smiled. "Good! Now make it a 3D fax machine, and delete the original item. The molecules are all uploaded to a wi-fi connecting the machines."

"What's the difference?" Mary stopped. "No, wait. Are you going anywhere with this?"

The Doctor stepped out onto the seventh floor. "The method of transport is completely different. Star Trek hypothetically locks onto the energy signature of the object to transport to and from anywhere; transmats are fixed transports between two places that transfer on touch, not energy locks; and real-life teleports are usually-" He caught Mary scowling, still standing in the elevator. He blinked. "I suppose that doesn't matter right now. Are you coming or not?"

She pressed the hold door button. "You're talking about science fiction as though it was real. Give me one good reason why I should let a madman anywhere near the abducted patient."

He met her eyes. Gray. A bit of a boring color really, like rain-soaked concrete. No, focus! He scowled, "Because, Mary Stonebridge, I'm not the one taking infants away from their mother to be experimented on. Didn't you think there was something out of the ordinary going on here with the vitals you got from that child?"

Mary's eyes softened a bit. Oh, she was listening at least. Good.

"Think, Mary? Why would anyone want to experiment on an infant? A human infant? No one that could actually convince a hospital to hand a child over."

Her face went dark. "That's what I never understood. Who is Torchwood?"

"They're government, technically." The Doctor made a face as though he'd just eaten baked beans. Beans are evil. "Not very good government. They're a secret organization that deals with aliens. They have a motto:  _if it's alien, it's ours._  Never mind if the  _alien_  is from Earth, originally."

Mary stared at him. Still, she pressed the open door button again to continue their conversation. "Government? Aliens? You sound like some conspiracy theorist."

" _Alien_  infants, on the other hand, that's something Torchwood has no issue abducting." The Doctor put his hand against the door frame to keep it open. "Mary, please! The longer we stand here talking, the longer Torchwood has to do something to the child. I'm going to need your help to return him to his mother."

"Sorry," she lowered her head. "You could be right anyway. It's just… this is all a bit crazy if you ask me."

He held out his hand to her. "Yes, it is a bit crazy, but I'll help you. We'll get the child back, and I'll hook you up with something better than this job. If you want to help people, you shouldn't be stuck in a hospital that hands over children."

Looking up, Mary took his hand and stepped out of the elevator. "You're not just an MD, are you?"

He shook his head. "Psychic paper. It shows you anything I want. I'm not a medical doctor – well, I have some advanced medical training, just not from Earth – but it was the fastest way to recruit your help. What I really do is step in to resolve crises. It's just the Doctor, by the way. It wasn't an unheard-of naming convention among my people."

"You're saying you're an alien?"

"The good kind!" He said quickly. "I'm helping, aren't I?"

She blinked. "Is the baby one of your people? Is that why you're helping?"

He shook his head, eyes drooping. "That's impossible. I'd know if there were any other Time Lords still alive. I just happened to be here, and, as I said, what I do is resolve crises. I can't just leave a child in Torchwood's hands."

He turned. "Come on. We should get going."

They went to Torchwood's office. It was locked.

"I'm starting to think I should have called the police," Mary said, glaring at the doorknob.

The Doctor shook his head. "They can't help. Torchwood is government, remember?" He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his sonic screwdriver, and aimed it at the door. "Besides, we're in."

He barged in, mentally preparing something clever for if he got caught. He hoped he got caught. That would be the fastest way to find the child, wouldn't it? Unless Torchwood wised up to him.

No one was inside. There was, however, a computer, left on the office desk. That could do just as well. "Hang on," he told Mary. "If there's a map of where we're going, possibly with a clue to where they're keeping him, that will make our job so much faster."

Mary hung over his shoulder as he searched. "How are you familiar with using our computers anyway?"

He didn't look up. The browser history was interesting: someone was using secure email recently, after the time the infant was taken, he'd say. "Oh, me? I've spent a lot of time here. While Earth might not be my planet, I've put a lot of work into keeping it safe. Besides, it's the closest I've got to a home now."

"Why?" Mary paused. "Hold on. You said all your people are dead?"

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. "That's right. There was a war, and my planet was destroyed at its end. My people with it. I'm the last one."

Mary's hand found its way on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."

He took another breath and opened his eyes. "There's nothing that can be done for them anymore. But there is someone we can do something for, and we need to save him." He opened the email and scanned through. "Ha! Found him!"

Mary leaned forward to read, but the Doctor needed to see if there was a map of Torchwood he could access from this computer. He filled her in instead. "Someone requested that diapers, blankets, and baby formula be delivered to the observation room. There's no sense in killing something you want to study long-term. He'll be there."

Moments later, Torchwood's schematics were pulled up and the Doctor memorized ten different routes to where they were going. He bounced toward the transmat. "Wait in this office. I'll bring him back."

"Doctor!" Mary called behind him, but he was out of the hospital before he could hear what she wanted.

It didn't matter long. Humans! Couldn't anyone  _for once_  just stay where he told them to? Mary caught up with him, making an obvious effort to fight the bewilderment on her face. She couldn't believe that the transmat actually worked, could she? "Doctor," she hissed, "aren't  _you_  an alien? What happens if you get caught?"

"I'm really good at sneaking through corridors. But if I do get caught, I get taken to the observation room and break out with the baby." The Doctor scanned the long, empty corridor in front of them. He could swear he could hear footsteps around where there was finally a corner. Holding a finger over his lips, he pulled Mary through a door.

The lights turned on automatically. They'd ended up in a restroom. A women's restroom, judging by the floral air freshener and the pale pink tiles.

"Doctor?"

He pressed his finger to his lips. "There's someone coming. Wait until they pass."

They waited silently for a few minutes until the Doctor was certain the danger was gone. He paused with his hand on the door to the corridor. "There's no heading back now. They'll be on the other side. But if you're going to come, keep quiet until we're back at the hospital. We don't want to get caught."

"Right." Mary nodded.

The Doctor led them through snaking corridors and down a winding staircase. They ducked as they reached a room with large windows and several lab-coated scientists milling around.

Mary nudged the Doctor. "We're in the right spot," she whispered. "I saw the baby. But how are we going to get in there? Can you use that paper?"

"No." He reached inside his pocket and wrapped his hand around his sonic screwdriver. "They're trained to see through tricks like that. The best we can do is to create a distraction, grab the baby, and run."

The Doctor looked around for something he could use. The walls were bare around here, but up on the ceiling were the fire sprinklers. He could use them to trip the entire fire system, alarm and all. He calculated and aimed.

The sirens blared. Within seconds, every Torchwood scientist in the observation room poured out, heading for the nearest stairwell.

The Doctor slipped inside, Mary close behind him. He could hear the infant's wails competing with the alarm:  _Someone help me! Get me back to my mum._

They wove around tables of microscopes and cages of alien creatures, the Doctor sonicking cages open on their way. The creatures scampered away. Finally, they reached a newborn on a padded mat, sloppily wrapped in a white blanket.

The Doctor stopped in front of him. "It's alright. I'm the Doctor, and this is Mary. We're come to take you back to your mother."

The child calmed, looking up at the Doctor through teary eyes.

The Doctor would have said more as he reached for the child, but he froze: this wasn't just a newborn. This was a newborn with his hospital tag still around his ankle:  _Jon_ _athan Wilfred_ _Noble._

"No." The Doctor's eyes widened. He knew that name. He knew that name very well. But it couldn't be. This was impossible.

Even more impossibly, when he payed attention, he felt a Time Lord presence right in front of him. A young Time Lord presence, but it was unmistakable: he was looking at himself.

Mary peered at him. She peered at adult him, that is. "No what? Is everything alright?"

He stared at his infant self. "This is – well, it's not impossible. It's more than theoretically possible for Time Lords to travel back to the day they were born. It's just very, very unlikely that of all the times my ship could have gone when she drifted off-course, it would be to here and now."

He blinked, synapses connecting. He didn't remember his mother very well in his old age, not his human mother at least – only that she was ginger and loved him very much – but didn't his younger self say that he was here to help Donna, as in Donna was-once Noble? Possibly Noble once again. Shawn must have left her because of the pregnancy. Oh, Donna. Mum.

His hands trembled. "The thing is, genetically, I'm fully Time Lord. I thought this whole timeline must have been a regeneration-induced hallucination. I was from Gallifrey. I wasn't from Earth, except I am."

"What are you on about?"

The Doctor nodded to Jon. "This is me. The only reason you see adult me here is because I'm a time-traveler."

Mary nodded, but her eyes were still clouded with confusion. It was as though she were trying very hard to keep an open mind. "Right. After teleports, I guess time travel could be possible for you aliens."

Jon opened his mouth to resume his fussing.  _Are you going to get me home or not?_

"Of course." The Doctor reached for his younger self, but Jon screamed out about how he was in pain. He pulled away, now very glad that Mary followed him through Torchwood. He looked at her. "Mine is a time-sensitive species. Our young ones especially so. I can't pick him up without hurting him, being his future self. I need you to carry him back."

Mary scooped Jon up. "I'm sure that makes sense to others from your planet. Let's just get you to safety, alright?"

They ran back the way they came. The Doctor wasn't paying nearly as much attention this time: the building should have been empty, but he rounded a corner and saw a Torchwood employee turning around. He shoved Mary gently to keep her from rounding the corner too. "Hide," he hissed at her.

The employee was a tall man with thick, flyaway blond hair and two eyes dwarfed by the size of his nose. His eyes locked on the Doctor.

"Hello. My name's Jon. I'm brand-new. I don't suppose you could direct me to the nearest fire escape?"

The man stepped toward him. "There isn't any fire. A simple search of our systems revealed they was hacked by extraterrestrial technology. We haven't been hiring anybody lately either. Who are you really?"

"Oh well, it was worth a try." The Doctor held his hands up. "Why is Torchwood hanging around hospitals?"

"You're the Doctor, aren't you?" The man lunged forward and knocked the Doctor against a wall. He pinned him to it.

With a look up and down the man's side, the Doctor grinned, mind rushing to find a way out of his predicament. All he could do until then was keep him talking. "You're unarmed. That's an improvement."

"If you were quiet, that would be an improvement. If I catch you, I'll be more than just the caretaker."

Mary's hand reached between the Doctor and his captor with a pocket-sized bottle of hairspray and squirted the captor's eyes. The captor yelped.

The Doctor shoved him off. He checked that Mary was still holding the baby, grabbed the hand she had her hairspray in, and sprinted toward the nearest lift. He used his sonic to send them hurtling toward the transmat floor. They dashed down that long entrance hallway, leaped through the wall, and bounded out of the hospital office.

"Made it!" The Doctor hugged Mary. Nothing serious, just in celebration. John started wailing at the contact.

He pulled back. "Thanks for back there. You, Mary Stonebridge, are an example of the very best of people."

Mary glanced at him as she made nonsense noises at John. "You're alright, now. He didn't mean to hurt you. Let's just focus on getting you back to your mum, alright? I don't know how we can keep you away from Torchwood afterwards, but I'm sure your mum can think of someplace safe for you. Something's got to work if your older self is free."

The Doctor frowned, not wanting to worry his temporary companion with the fact that time could be rewritten. Instead, he voiced something else that was bothering him. "There was another one of me running around. He said he was here to help Mum. It worries me that we haven't run into him. He would have been getting our infant self back for her unless something happened to him or Mum."

"We'd better hurry and check up on them then." Mary strode forward. "Come on. Room's this way."

He followed behind her, blanking out a few times on the way. It couldn't be helped, he supposed. It was boring. And he'd picked up a test tube and a syringe somewhere along the way. He couldn't remember what for. Oh well. He pocketed them.

When they entered, his younger self was sitting next to Donna, having his hand held, his eyes staring at his knees. "Can I stay with you while I'm going through therapy?"

"Of course you can! You're like family. You just help explain things to Mum. Deal?"

The Doctor stared at them. "Therapy? I don't remember this. And since when can she remember without her mind burning?"

Sand Shoes looked up. "What? But therapy's going to take  _months._  You forgot this too? Do you at least remember Mars?"

The Doctor blinked. "Of course I remember Mars. It was horrible, having to listen to those people die and being unable to do anything. But why would that motivate us to seek therapy when nothing else did?"

Sand Shoes' jaw dropped. His hand trembled on Donna's. "You mean you-? Are you sure? I don't like you. I am never going to become you. I will do everything in my power to rewrite time."

Donna looked at Sand Shoes, then looked at him. "Spaceman, who's this?" She was quickly distracted as she noticed the bundle in Mary's arms. "Jon! You brought him back!"

Mary did the one thing Donna had been asking the hospital staff most to do: she let her hold her baby. She then busied herself with unhooking the pain killers in Donna's arm. No one had bothered after she gave birth to an alien baby.

Meanwhile, Jon was squealing and reaching for his mother. Donna planted a kiss on his forehead. He cuddled into her chest. "I am not letting some evil man take you away again!" She looked up, tears in her shining eyes. "Thank you. I owe you the life of my only child. Both of you."

The Doctor smiled at her. "It's good to see you again. It's been centuries for me."

Donna blinked. "Is this like Professor River Song and skinny here? Are you a time traveler we're meeting out of order? I only know you as the man who's saved Jon."

Sand Shoes cleared his throat. "Donna, since your memories are entirely your own again, and you never got a proper explanation when I was shot by Daleks, there's something I need to tell you about Time Lords: when we're about to die, we have a chance to save ourselves by changing every single cell in our bodies. Every single one. We're like a brand new person afterwards: different body, different personality, sometimes even a different sex. Well, unless we pull a stupid stunt that ends up getting our best friend hurt. I am so, so sorry."

Donna's eyes gradually widened as Sand Shoes spoke, and they turned toward the Doctor. "You mean that's you?"

The Doctor smiled and spread his arms. "Yeah. What do you think? Is it an improvement?"


	6. Chapter 6 - In Which They've Redecorated

"How is it an improvement?" Sand Shoes released Donna's hand and rose to his feet.

"Oi, Spaceman! Don't do anything stupid."

Sand Shoes nodded, took a long breath, and asked more calmly. "How is it an improvement? Why would we change our mind about seeking mental help after Mars?"

"Mental help?" The Doctor asked softly. He took a step toward Sand Shoes, whose hands were still twitching into fists.

Oh, there was something very not good here. The Doctor placed a hand on his younger self's shoulder. "Perhaps you should seek mental help. You're acting odd – you didn't even try to rescue Donna's child, did you?"

Sand Shoes lowered his eyes. "I scared Donna too much, and she was right too. I would have rescued Jon, but I mostly wanted to take revenge on Torchwood." He took a breath. "Do I like who I am when I'm you?"

"As much as we ever do." The Doctor gripped Sand Shoes' arms. "Doctor, I no longer understand: what happened on Mars?"

Sand Shoes eyes shot up, brows raised. "Captain Adelaide Brooke? We decided that we were the master of time and rescued her from the base?"

A weight dropped into the Doctor's stomach. "Doctor, Captain Adelaide Brooke died on… Earth? That can't be right.  _I_  listened helplessly as she died on Mars. Something's messing with our timeline." He gulped. "Who are you seeking mental help from?"

"UNIT. Sylvia's called them in to rescue Jon. They could handle it, but I see it's taken care of." He frowned. "I'm starting to think future us tricked me into getting help by telling me that Donna needed me."

The Doctor pressed his lips together. "I hate to ask twice, but are you  _sure_  that was us? You only have one regeneration left, and that's me."

Sand Shoes shut his eyes and placed his forehead against his. "Take a look. Find what's happening to us."

He looked, images and sounds flashing through his combined mind at a speed few but the Time Lords could process. He let go of his younger self. "Okay, so you were right: she was definitely us. Blimey! She couldn't have given you any hint of what we're up against, could she?"

"I don't like it." Sand Shoes crossed his arms, glaring at the sterile-white tiles.

"I don't like it either, Matchstick Man, but we'll sort it." The Doctor pulled his arms back. "If future us was stable enough to warn you, I'm probably fine too. I'll help."

What could be rewriting the timeline? The Doctor's gaze stopped on his mother smiling at his infant self. No, probably not that. But if someone was rewriting his timeline for the worse, that would be an easy place to strike. "We have to tell her."

Donna and Sand Shoes stared at him and asked in unison, "Tell me/her what?"

The Doctor's eyes flickered to his younger self. "You don't know?"

Sand Shoes crossed his arms. "No."

The Doctor sat on the awkward plastic chair beside Donna's bed. "Your child's full name is Jonathan Wilfred Noble."

Sand Shoes came closer, taking in the baby. "No!" He grinned at Donna. "No, this is brilliant! I do get to remember you."

She frowned at the both of them in turn. "Doctor, are either of you going to tell me what you're talking about?"

The Doctor met his younger self's eyes. "I'm sure she'd rather hear it from a familiar face."

Sand Shoes nodded. "Right." He shuffled, hesitated, and took their mother's hand. When he spoke, his voice was rather small. "Donna?"

Her face was a bit pale, her breathing shallow. "What is it? Is Jon going to grow up to be the next Hitler?"

"I hope not," Sand Shoes muttered, "but the way his history is changing, he might be. Donna…" He gulped. "My birth name – well, one of my birth names anyway – is Jonathan Wilfred Noble. I was born on Earth at Chiswick Mercy Hospital on the 24 of May, 2018."

She let go of his hand.  _"_ _Jon?"_

Both Doctors nodded. "I'm afraid so," mumbled Sand Shoes. He looked at his future self. "You knew that Donna couldn't remember us without her mind burning. In your timeline, how did Time Lord energy get into her head?"

"When I was you, I got shot by a Dalek and decided I didn't want to regenerate on one Ms. Rose Tyler again. Bit vain really." The Doctor smirked a bit at the glare his younger self sent him. "So I used just enough energy to heal myself and poured the rest into my dismembered hand. Donna touched it and created a two-way metacrisis."

Sand Shoes nodded, starting to tug on his hair. "Same as you, but what Donna described for me earlier, that was a  _Reaper_. A Reaper attacked her, the metacrisis energy left her mind, and she became pregnant with us. If Mars is where our timeline was altered, how is that possible? No, Mars is a symptom of a much earlier rewrite. One that should have erased my incarnation from existence."

The Doctor paled. "Whatever this is  _created_  that part of our timeline. Your us don't exist, Donna never receives Time Lord energy, when she still has it, her subconscious saves her from the Reaper by converting that energy into us a baby – an uncontaminated us. Then, having failed to erase our incarnations with an earlier attempt, whatever it is went after us again, only this time, it went after the first one it could without entirely erasing our existence – you." He swore. "Whenever one attempt fails, I get the feeling it's just going to keep going after a later version of us until our final self defeats it. Or whatever self encountered it defeats it. One of the two."

"Oi! What's attacking you when it comes home then?" Donna was holding their infant self to her chest.

As Sand Shoes took her hand again and started explaining, Mary came up to the Doctor. "I don't understand everything that's going on here, but don't you still have an evil government organization after you? We should really get you and your mum away from this hospital."

"Right!" He stepped toward the door. "Hey, Matchstick Man! Make yourself useful and get Mum and baby us to safety, will you? I'll distract Torchwood until UNIT arrives, then I'll speak with them, get our family some protection and put in a good word for Mary, if she wants, and all that." And erase their birth records for River's sake, or course, but his younger self did not need to know that.

* * *

His future self was right: he did need to get Donna out of there. "The TARDIS is right outside the hospital, but I don't want to leave you alone to go fetch it, and I'm not sure the nurse here can protect you. I take it you can't walk?"

"What do you think?"

The nurse – Mary – walked toward the door. "I'll get a wheelchair."

The Doctor nodded. "Thank you."

Donna sulked. "All that time traveling with you, and you couldn't, even once, mention that I'm your mother in one of your timelines?"

"Time Lord childhoods last beyond a human's natural lifespan, so I was very young when you…." He stopped, deciding against saying the word  _died_ to Donna while she was still alive. It wasn't hard to pick up on what he was about to say of course, and Donna stroked the baby's head glumly. He swallowed. "Anyways, I was very young then, and I'm very old now. Even Time Lord memories fade. It wasn't even on my primary timeline back then. I didn't have photos or anything. I didn't remember your face."

"What if it's more than that? If I'm going to die, I think it would be better for you to be raised by someone with a similar lifespan. I know the Time Lords are gone, but isn't there anyone else?"

"Mum, I-" There was more the Doctor wanted to say, reassurances for the most important woman in his universe. He was drowned out by a  _VWORP! VWORP!_ as a dark blue telephone box appeared.

"That'll be that you with the big chin, won't it?"

He stood up. "I don't think so." It was too dark to be that future self's TARDIS.

The TARDIS doors opened, and out stumbled his female incarnation, faded through. She was bent over, clutching her chest.

Not good. The Doctor took a step toward her. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him. "Restrain me!"

She was really scaring him. He and Chinny had thought she was  _stable._  He ran toward her, reaching her just in time for her to solidify into a body he hoped he'd never see again: the Valeyard's.

The Valeyard knocked him to the ground. He rolled over and grabbed the Valeyard's ankle, pulling him away from Donna.

The Valeyard kicked him in the nose.

He cried out. His hands flew to his face, catching the blood.

Donna screamed.

The Doctor pushed himself up. The Valeyard's hands were on Donna's throat. Her eyes met his and flickered down to the baby slipping from her arms.

"Stop it!" he shouted. "You're going to kill us all!" He rammed himself into the Valeyard's side.

The Valeyard was knocked into the wall. The Doctor saw bruises forming on their mother's throat, but she was still breathing, if gasping for breath at the moment.

He took his chance to hold the Valeyard's wrists behind his back, pressing his evil future incarnation into the sheet rock. "What are you doing? No. How are you here? You died in the Matrix. On Gallifrey!"

The Valeyard's voice came out a little breathless. "I wanted to interfere before we destroyed Gallifrey. 2.47 billion children, Doctor! I was never as bad as you've become. As you're becoming."

The Doctor slackened his grip on the Valeyard, guilt swirling in his stomach. If he were to become the Valeyard, could he stop himself from making things worse in his attempts to intervene? Just like he had on Mars.

"He's tricking you," Donna croaked.

The Valeyard twisted against the Doctor. The Doctor shoved him harder into the wall. "How does killing our own mother stop my downward spiral? She's the one best positioned to help me out right now."

"She's human. She can't understand the laws of time like we can, can she?"

"No, but she understands other things. Say what you want about my judgment, but I trust hers." The Doctor smirked on hearing marching footsteps rushing their way. That would be UNIT, and just in time.

Sylvia Noble stepped through the door, followed by two young soldiers. "They're here. They're going to save-" she stopped when she saw that child in her daughter's arms. "Jon! Doctor? Who's that? He's Torchwood, isn't he?"

"No, he's not." The Doctor craned his head to look at the soldiers. "Help me! We've got to restrain him. I need him alive to reverse the time stream, so no guns! Either of you got any handcuffs?"

"And a gag," Donna croaked, wincing. "He plays mind games."

Sylvia's hands flew to her mouth. "He choked you, didn't he? That  _awful_  man! Someone get a doctor!"

With a great heave, the Doctor peeled the Valeyard away from the wall and toward the soldiers. "Don't worry, Mum. We've got it. Try not to speak while your throat's healing."

All three of the room's new arrivals stared at him. "What did you call my daughter?" Sylvia demanded.

"Mum," he repeated. "She's my surrogate mum. You knew I'm a time traveler." He looked at the soldiers, struggling to keep his grip on the Valeyard. "I need help!"

That spurred the soldiers into action. They had the Valeyard handcuffed and gagged in a matter of minutes.

Sylvia looked at the Valeyard, wide-eyed. "Who is he? What does he want with Donna?"

The Doctor quickly explained and Sylvia looked horrified. "Gran, the reason he attacked Mum was because she might be able to help me prevent myself from turning into him. The fact that he's still around worries me, but if I can get the other future me back long enough, we can figure out how to stop it altogether."

She blinked tears from her eyes and nodded. "You stop this, Jon."

The Doctor entered his future self's TARDIS and balked at the feminine theme. "Can't be helped," he said to himself. "I am a girl at the time. Good to see she's still mine and not the Valeyard's." He jogged to the console and checked the settings. "She's already giving all she's got to try to get her back as a paradox. It would take another TARDIS or two to get her back and stable. I've got another TARDIS or two."

He patted a smooth section of console. "Don't worry, Old Girl. We'll get your Doctor back."

He ducked out of the TARDIS, barked an answer to where he was going, sprinted through the corridors, took the lift, and dashed outside.

Chinny's TARDIS was still there. Good.

Rather than trying to figure out a new configuration just to get Chinny's TARDIS upstairs, it would be easier to materialize his own TARDIS around it and take them up at the same time. One mad dance with his controls later and he dropped Chinny's TARDIS off in the room. He parked his own a few feet away, arranged so that his future self was in the center of the triangle they made. He matched his ship's settings to his future self's and ran outside.

His future self was back to normal. Well, she was mostly in her Doctor form anyway. Well, she was more the Doctor than she was the Valeyard, but she was as ghostly as when she showed up, and her form kept flashing back to the Valeyard's.

"Hang in there. One more TARDIS. That should do it."

He entered Chinny's TARDIS and scowled: he didn't like the way that version had redecorated either. "What has he done to you?" he asked as he approached the console.

The TARDIS thrummed impatiently.

"Right." He started guessing at the controls, working them out as he went. It took several minutes, but he got the settings changed. "She won't remember our timeline, will she? Just the original. Just as well we need the original more."

When he climbed out of Chinny's TARDIS, his future self was solid and very constantly herself. He knelt in front of her and removed the gag. "Are you alright?"

"For the moment." Her blue eyes swam from one TARDIS to the next. "I count three. Who else is here?"

"My immediate successor."

Blondie shook her head. "He's not the Doctor anymore. I caught a glimpse of him before I fully turned: there are two Valeyards running around."

The Doctor's hearts skipped some beats. "He was consulting himself. That hypocrite."

Blondie grimaced.

"You're not alright, are you?"

She shook her head. "This is taking a lot of power from the TARDISes. They can't keep me comfortable, but never mind about me. We have to change your future!"

"How? I know in the original timeline, I left Captain Brooke on Mars, but I was already falling into despair before that! How did I keep the darkness from taking over?"

She took a breath. "How does Donna's baby tie into this?"

"That's us. Well, me, not so much you. But if we can restore you to time, it will be you too. How do we restore you?"

She nodded to a UNIT nurse that the Doctor had not noticed while he was parking the TARDISes. "The other Valeyard had a syringe. He must have talked UNIT into giving it to the baby. It's too late. We'll have to do it another way."

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. "Is it safe to release you?"

"Should be. I'll stay close to the TARDISes."

As soon as the Doctor removed the handcuffs from her wrists, she stood up and took out her own sonic. She strode over to Donna's bedside with a smile. "Long time, no see."

Donna opened her mouth, but the Time Lady shook her head. "You're still injured. I just want you to nod yes or no: can we examine your child?"

Donna looked at the Doctor, and he could practically see the question in her eyes: is she really you? He stepped towards them, jaw moving before hers could get a chance. "She is me. My future self. Well, if we can prevent me from turning evil anyway." His eyes drifted toward the blonde. "She's not what I expected my future to be exactly, but I'd much rather turn into her than turn into the Valeyard."

Rolling her eyes, the future Doctor bent toward Donna's ear, but she had to speak loudly enough for human hearing that the Doctor could catch her words at the distance between them. "I remember you complaining on the day we met about being bleeped. Well, now it's my turn to be bleeped. I'll have to examine Stretch Toy there too."

"Stretch Toy?" Why did he keep up this habit of insulting himself?

It wasn't all bad though: Donna smiled. Her eyes gleamed as though she recognized him in his future self. And she'd still trust him when he was her – she offered her newborn son to the Time Lady as though to be held.

His future self started examining the infant, keeping her sonic well away from baby Jon's curious hands. The current Doctor joined in, forming a frown as he determined the substance injected into his child self. He stepped closer to the blonde, keeping his voice low. "We can't neutralize this in a baby. That much radiation would kill a Time Tot, no regeneration at all."

"I don't think we have to. It's dormant for now." She aimed her screwdriver between the Doctor's eyes, probed him for a moment, and pulled it away. "It's still in you, but in you it's started activating. I think the Valeyard I was was a distraction or a back-up plan. This is more sure-fire."


	7. Chapter 7 - In Which Nothing is More Stupid than Kissing a Dalek

The Doctor stopped breathing. If enough of that stuff was released in his brain, it would permanently alter the way he thought, through the remainder of his regenerations. Therapy wouldn't do enough for him. "How long…?"

"A few months. You won't even make it to the Byzantium with River Song."

He swallowed. If it had already existed in him for centuries, it would take more to undo it. This him would have to die of radiation. And if it had already started to take root – it had, he scared his mother with it earlier, didn't he? - he couldn't just die, he would have to sacrifice himself, truly sacrifice himself for something, in addition to dying of radiation. He met his female self's eyes. "I'm going to have to forget, aren't I?"

"Not for a few more hours." She nudged his shoulder. "I'll set it up. You spend some time with your mum and gran." She pocketed her sonic and pranced over to her TARDIS. She stopped and smiled back at Donna. "It was very good to see you again. I promise you'll see this me soon." She paused, smile growing. "Thanks. For becoming my mother."

The Doctor stared at her, calling at her as she opened the doors. "What are you going to do? If you leave this room, you'll go back to being the Valeyard."

She poked her head out, eyes twinkling. "There is one planet I can go to where my TARDIS can sustain me on its own." That said, she pulled the doors shut behind her. Soon after, her TARDIS faded from its place with the wheezing and groaning the Doctor was accustomed to.

He didn't take his eyes off the spot. "But that planet burned."

The Doctor only moved when Donna slipped her hand into his. He squeezed it. "I'll be alright." The words were weak even in his ears. "If she succeeded, the Valeyard's hold over my future will be weak enough that bow tie me will be himself with only two TARDISes to sustain him. He'll be here permanently the moment he or both his past selves leave."

He had some aftercare to deal with while he still remembered – even his future self would still have a few traces left in his mind. Not much, just enough to be tempted to do something stupid, like killing an innocent space whale, or kissing a Dalek, or…. He had no clue what he'd do actually, but it couldn't be any more stupid than kissing a Dalek. That was just yuck.

The Doctor forced a smile. "I should be able to wrap things up here and take you home." He should have enough time to do that, no matter what had to happen next. "I'll be back. I need to go find Chinny. Take care of Mum for me, will you Gran?"

"She's my daughter!" Sylvia took a deep breath. "It did work, didn't it? I'm not going to have to watch my only grandson become some sort of villain?"

She did care.

"You won't have to watch that." The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets, meeting her eyes. "I'll take care of it. See you later."

He went to go look for himself, but on his way out, he stopped and whispered in one of UNIT's soldier's ears what he needed them to do if his future self had not succeeded: kill him with radiation, and if that didn't work, well, maybe there was one good use for a gun.

* * *

He didn't remember being the Valeyard, but that blank in his memory pointed to its happening. He wanted to kick himself – he was blanking out while he and Mary were on the way to deliver his infant self to his mother. He should have realized! The knowledge left a taste in his mouth like the food he once demanded from Amy Pond. He hoped it didn't show as he was talking to UNIT – he promised Mary he could get her a new job if she wanted it.

As he finished up, he spotted a presence out the corner of his eye – a very brown presence – his younger self's pinstriped suit, if he wasn't mistaken.

One of UNIT's women had a memo app open on her phone. "And that was Mary Stonebridge?"

"Yes."

The woman met his eyes. "And you're sure you're back to normal?"

"Absolutely." He clapped the woman on the shoulder. "I'm sure you lot had something to do with it, if you were able to, and I know you can do something about Torchwood, so I'm going to see what my younger self wants."

To be honest, he hated the idea, even if it was himself, but he'd stalled long enough. He didn't  _know_  what his younger self wanted, but he had a theory, and he was clever enough that his theories were almost always accurate. Besides, he wanted to put his time as the Valeyard well behind him.

The Doctor straightened, and as casually as possible, strolled toward his younger self. "Your therapy stopped going to work then. That wasn't fun."

His younger self was leaning against the wall, crossing his arms and legs. "You're the one who thought you were stable enough to help."

"I was, wasn't I?" The Doctor ran his eyes over his past face, freckles, skinny nose, brown eyes, all of it. He wished he could remember what he'd been thinking when he was in his place, taking that deep breath through his nostrils.

"How much do you remember?"

"I got as far as stairs," he said slowly. "Another TARDIS came. The next thing I remember, I'm hacking Torchwood's computer. I wiped their records of us while I was there, but what did I do as the Valeyard?"

"Nothing that can't be reversed. Thing is, I have to die and be absolutely sure to become you."

His death as Sand Shoes. Now that was a dark one: confronting the consequences of his hubris, facing down every enemy he'd ever made, rage filling his veins over Amy's death. All the while, his TARDIS was exploding and River with it. He lost it that day. Not only did he try to kill each and every one of those trying to lock him in the Pandorica, but he hadn't exactly gone for quick, painless deaths either. Only seeing Rory's grief over his fiancee softened him up for a more happy-go-lucky incarnation as his regeneration set in. Not exactly the best way to go for someone trying to avoid becoming the Valeyard. "Look, when you go to Stonehenge and you're facing down everyone and their guns and-"

"Stonehenge? Is that where I was supposed to die?" Sandshoe's eyes were heavy. He shook his head. "I can't be shot. I have to die of radiation poisoning. The Valeyard's injected baby-us with a mind-altering substance that has to be neutralized as an adult."

Oh. His younger self would need help setting that up. Speaking of, the best chance for that would be Gallifrey's brief return, wouldn't it? He wasn't quite sure how to pull that one off, but he always thought of something. "I could-"

"No. Future us has it taken care of, otherwise you'd be the Valeyard right now."

The Doctor blinked. "Then what do you need me for?"

The Doctor was never on the receiving end of that look before – the look where his eyes were big and a little bit glossy and he couldn't quite help but look at whoever was about to meet a horrible fate. It was a bit unnerving actually.

"I'm sorry," murmured his younger self. "I'm so sorry, but I'll still have some of that substance in me after I regenerate into you. I have to wipe out what's left, and it will take some memories with it. Whatever you came to do, is it done?"

That would do it. That would get his younger self apologizing. Oh, how he hated forgetting sometimes! He did his best not to show fear on his face, for his younger self's benefit. "I got the date wrong in the first place – I was aiming for four years down the road – but I would have had to come here anyway to get rid of our birth record. I only got Torchwood's records, not the hospital's. Take care of it, will you?"

Sand Shoes nodded, and the Doctor backed away involuntarily. It wasn't that he wanted to keep the Valeyard's influence – it was just that now he knew how his mother felt. Before he knew it, Sand Shoes' hands were on his temples.

* * *

The Doctor lugged his future self back to his own TARDIS and made a few preparations for him. He set the controls to dematerialize without his current incarnation. It left him standing in Donna's hospital room, facing his mother, his grandmother, his younger self, an officer from UNIT.

Donna was crying, saying something about finding adoptive parents to the UNIT officer. Jon was fussing, pleading with his mother to let him stay.

"If you're sure. It may take a while. We know the Doctor has enemies. We'll have to be sure we're not giving him into their hands."

A pain tore through the Doctor's hearts. Adoption? No, he didn't want that. Was this about what Donna said earlier about finding parents with a more similar lifespan, or did she not want him after all? It had to be odd preparing to raise the alien you knew as your best friend.

He walked to the foot of her bed. "Is this really what you want?"

"No," she croaked, "but it's what's best for you."

He didn't feel the same way. Sighing, he said, "Hang on. You should be healing. I'll just nip into the TARDIS and get some stuff for an injured throat."

He didn't take long. He came out with a cup full of glowing yellow and had Donna drink. The bruises healed, her breaths deepened, and her voice came out as normal. "Thanks for that."

Smiling, he said, "You know you don't have to give me up unless you want to."

"Two parents. No guaranteed deaths during your childhood. That's what I want for you."

"Donna.  _Mum._ " He leaned forward onto the bed. "It's not just my personal enemies: the Time Lord race has a lot of enemies, and then there are people who would use me too. UNIT means well, but they don't know them all. I want to be raised by someone I trust. I – baby me, that is – I am the most vulnerable I am in my life, and I need  _you._ "

Even Jon quieted, everyone looking at Donna to see what her answer could be.

"I'm single, I'm human, and I don't know the first thing about baby Time Lords. What sort of life can I give you?" Even as she said it, tears streamed down her face.

Jon started fussing again, and Donna vainly tried to comfort him.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Sylvia put her hands on her hips. "My grandson has made it perfectly clear how he feels. If he wants to stay, he stays! That's what sort of life you can give him."

If anyone had told the Doctor while he was traveling with Donna that Sylvia Noble would one day take his side over her daughter's, he would have scoffed. But now, here it was, and it made sense. A slow smile took his face. "Thanks, Gran."

Donna stopped arguing, she became eerily quiet in fact, and her tears fell more and more. The Doctor couldn't just leave her in such a state. He walked around the bed and knelt by her side. "You're going to do fine. Remember what stuck with me about my mum? How she loves me very much. That's good, isn't it? And honestly, I had a happier childhood here than I did on Gallifrey."

Sniffing, Donna stroked his infant self's cheek. "I do love you. That's why I want to give you to a family that's better for you."

"You won't find one." He gazed into her eyes. "I know you're scared, but you won't be alone. Gran will help, and Great-Grandpa Wilf-" He grinned. "You named me after Great-Grandpa Wilf!"

Donna and Sylvia exchanged glances. "Doctor," Donna said quietly, "Gramps died years ago."

A lump formed in his throat. He should have known. Humans don't last forever. One day, he was going to lose Donna too. In fact, as soon as he got in his TARDIS and made himself forget, he will have already lost her from his perspective. He swallowed the lump. "Oh."

"Hold Jon for a moment, will you Mum?" Donna handed her infant off to her mother and put her hands on the Doctor's cheeks. "I miss him too. He would have been proud to be your great-grandfather."

"I'm proud to be his great-grandson. He was a good man."

"Yeah." Donna sighed. "Mum and I won't be around forever. I want to spare you a bit of heartache if I can, and I want to know you'll be taken care of."

Gently, the Doctor removed Donna's hands from his face. "There are very few things that live as long as a Time Lord, and I wouldn't want to be raised by any of them. My people weren't the best at making friends. I'm better off with you."

Her face softened, so the Doctor knew he was getting through to her. "As I was saying, Gran will help. One day, there's a chance you'll meet a man willing to marry you and help raise me. In fact, I vaguely remember him. He officially adopted me. Smith, his name was. No one believes me when I say my name is Jon Smith, but it is. Well, it's one of my names."

There! That was a smile. He smiled back. "And- and me. I know that is me you're raising, but I'll help. Normally, I couldn't cross my own time stream, but you know who I'm supposed to grow up to be. I'm supposed to grow up to know about the laws of time and how to fly a TARDIS and other Time Lord stuff, and there's no one else left to teach me. Not until my timelines fuse as an adult and I can remember Gallifrey. No one else knows much about Time Tots or Time Lord medicine either. Future me will have to do it. If you'll just keep me, I promise adult me will be in your life again, and Donna, I really to have you in my life again too."

Donna reached for the back of his head. "Alright, you're not going anywhere, Jon." She pulled his forehead to her lips. She looked toward the UNIT official. "Can you lot help him blend in?"

The official nodded. "We're hoping to get an agent in this hospital soon. We can issue records and explain away his alien traits. We'll protect your family from Torchwood."

* * *

The cloister bell woke the Doctor. He pushed himself off the glass floor, straightened his bow tie, and checked the coordinates. It wasn't often that he fell asleep, even from boredom, but this didn't feel like sleep anyway. It felt more like someone was poking around his mind, to be honest.

He sat himself in the lotus position and closed his eyes to check the state of himself – just a few memories gone. If they were important, he'd have to relearn it later, no way of retrieving them.

The next thing he checked was the TARDIS. There was a note on the console – one that put his mind at ease. He didn't remember writing it, but he did recognize his former self's handwriting.

_Doctor,_

_Both of us had to lose our memory, and someday we'll remember why. It's all for the best. I've set your TARDIS to take you to where you were meaning to go when you landed by me._

_\- the Doctor_

He scowled and shoved the note in his pocket. "I don't like being told not to solve a mystery, so there had better be a good one waiting for me outside those doors."

His younger self hadn't sent him when he was meaning to go – he was aiming for Christmas! Still, it was the right year, and he was at the hospital. He went in and easily found the immunization records that were signed by someone called Mary Stonebridge.

On his way back to the TARDIS, he spotted a date idea: a studio that brought inky creations to life. Well, not really to life, but inky creations that could light up and move as robots, thanks to conductive ink. It was a studio that worked on commission, its artists drawing pieces right in front of its customers. The twenty-first century made it one of the earliest of such shops on Earth. It wasn't an alien invasion, but it was better than going back to get his bow tie stolen again. He climbed in his ship and went to collect River.

* * *

The Doctor leaned against her TARDIS, parked just outside her grandmother's front door. She watched as her younger self's ship materialized and its occupants disembarked: her mother, her grandmother, and two of her younger selves, one in a baby carrier. She grinned. "Good to see you."

Sand Shoes smiled back, although it didn't reach his eyes. "And you. Good to see my future turned out so well." He sighed. "It's time, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Say your goodbyes, Doctor."

He turned and pulled their family into a hug – even Sylvia. He whispered something to them, but the Doctor couldn't remember what. They didn't let him go without tearful goodbyes of their own.

As he climbed into his TARDIS, the Doctor straightened up and strode along the walkway. "It's my turn. Hello, Mum. Gran."


End file.
